Eddie's Day Off
by areyouserial
Summary: Who knew Eddie spending a day at a car wash fundraiser with a bunch of fire fighters would make Jamie so jealous? Loosely a follow-up to The Bet.
1. Chapter 1

"Hey partner." I hear Jamie's voice trail behind me as I make my way down the precinct steps. I turn once I reach the sidewalk to see him not far behind, examining his phone. "Bridges says I'm riding with him tomorrow," he says, confusion lining his forehead. "What's up with that?"

"Yeah. I'm taking tomorrow off. But I'll be back for our late shift Friday night." It's all I offer him and I adjust my bag on my shoulder, glancing away because I can feel myself giving him a weird look.

Sliding his phone in his pocket, he nods and slants one eyebrow like he's waiting for more of an explanation.

I smile, but dammit that face. One look from him can crack anybody. I swear, he could get confessions from one of those silent British palace guards with nothing but a cute quirk of one cheek.

"Everything okay?" He asks.

"Yeah. Yeah, just… taking a vacation day, that's all."

"Alright."

I feel my eyes light up with this fake innocence I'm affecting. I nod at him, but I know I've already given myself away.

"I figured you'd give me a heads up, that's all."

"I wasn't sure who Sarge would pair you up with," I explain. "Hey, you get a break from me. You can eat all the salads you want."

"Eddie!" A female voice calls out over my shoulder and I see Jamie shift his gaze to spot the source, a moment of recognition briefly registering there.

I turn as Hailey approaches, hurrying over to me and I smile to greet her with a quick hug and peck on the cheek. "Hey!"

"Are you officially off the clock?" She wonders, excitement shining in her dark eyes.

"Yep. I was just heading out." I glance over at my bystander who's witnessing all of this, intrigued. And I haven't forgotten the two of them had a semi-date a few years ago that somehow ended with Jamie walking _me_ home and us kissing on the sidewalk. Hopefully we're all beyond that. At least Hailey is. "You remember Jamie, right? My partner."

"Sure, of course." She smiles.

"Yeah, Hailey. How've you been?"

"Great. I'll take good care of Eddie up in Westchester," she assures him and I manage a hard swallow, attempting to determine how I can steer us out of here before she lets Jamie know anymore details.

"Oh, okay." He nods. "Headed out to the suburbs, huh?"

"We're gonna find her a good firefighter. A hot one. Don't hold it against her, Officer." She teasingly points to him.

Jamie's head tilts as he makes a face, narrowing his gaze at her, then me.

"Alright, alright," I groan with a laugh, hook my arm in my friend's and tug. "Officer Reagan here doesn't need to know."

"Wai-wai-wait." A smirk starts to curve along his face and he reaches out to stop me. "Now I gotta know."

"My boyfriend's a firefighter with the White Plains Fire Department," she explains and I cringe, glancing down because there's no stopping her now. "And tomorrow, they're holding a car wash fundraiser. All the firemen… washing cars. I'm assuming with their shirts off. For a good cause!" She's so giddy about this information, and I'm just wishing I had told her to meet me somewhere else.

I see Jamie's mouth open and it's like he can't decide which part of this announcement he wants to give me shit for first.

I reach over and give Hailey's arm a squeeze. "It's her event. Hailey's an event planner. I'm going for moral support."

She shoots Jamie this doubtful look and shakes her head.

Jamie's chest puffs up and he crosses his arms there as he looks down at me, amused judgment all over his face. "That sounds-"

"Reagan," I warn.

"Really charitable of you." A smile curves along his lips and I return the look with a heated glare.

"There will be lots of good guys there," Hailey cuts in. "Jamie, don't you want to see Eddie with a good guy?"

He drops his hands, resting them low on his hips and I see his throat clench with a swallow as he nods thoughtfully. "Mm-hm. Definitely."

I set my jaw and attempt to telepathically relay to him not to even start.

"New York's finest, right?" Hailey beams with a suggestive arch of one eyebrow.

"That's cops," I mutter.

Jamie points to his chest. "Yeah, that's us."

"Oh." Hailey shrugs. "Whatever. Cops, firefighters. You're all friends, right?"

Jamie clears his throat and I have to glance down to restrain my giggles. "Well hey," he says. "Have fun on your day off. Hopefully nothing catches on fire in Westchester while all the firefighters are washing cars."

I bite down on my bottom lip because I can feel the smirk starting there. I didn't miss the slightly jealous note that crept into his voice. I've heard it before. "Keep the streets safe, partner."

"Somebody has to," he shoots back.

If I was closer to him, I would have given him a little tap on the ribs to shut him up. But instead, I simply point a finger at him before I turn with Hailey to lead her away.

"It's good to see you, Jamie," she smiles over her shoulder and he leaves her with a nod of his head before we head up the street for dinner.

* * *

Hailey and I had grabbed dinner in the city before heading out on the Metro North to my home town. She had chatted animatedly about the event, all the preparations, and how she could use my help with last minute promotion around town tomorrow morning. Then we spent a good bit of it talking about her boyfriend, Chris.

It was sweet to see her so in love, happy. I'd known the girl since high school and for a long time, we were single parters in crime, breaking hearts, too young to care. It's funny to me to see her settled down, dating someone in uniform no less.

That night, I glance around my old room as I lounge back on my bed, the same bed I had as a teenager in this house. It's quiet with only my mom living here all by herself. Before I can get too sentimental about how different my life was when this was my room years ago, my phone at my side pings with a message alert.

I settle into my pillow and pick up my phone to open the text.

 **Jamie:** _Something tells me you didn't want me to know where you were going tomorrow._

I have to roll my eyes because I can't even imagine how smug he is knowing what I'll be participating in. But I don't miss the little flare of heat in my chest that blooms when I see his name on my phone. I hate that I can't control that.

 **Eddie:** _I just wouldn't want you to get jealous._

 **Jamie:** _Ha._

 **Jamie:** _Hey, Westchester County firemen are pretty tough. Lot of trees… lot of cats out there in the suburbs._

 **Eddie:** _Lots of time to wash my car._

 **Eddie:** _For a good cause. ;)_

 **Jamie:** _Are you letting them wash the Porsche?_

 **Eddie:** _Why wouldn't I?_

 **Jamie:** _I thought your Porsche and I had something special. That hurts my heart a little bit._

 **Jamie:** _But it's cool. I'll move on._

Smiling, I bite down on my lower lip and I have to shake my head as my thumbs fly over the keys to respond.

 **Eddie:** _She got tired of waiting for you. She's a catch, you know._

 **Jamie:** _The one that got away. If it's meant to be, she'll find her way back to me._

 **Eddie:** _Oh yeah? If you live your whole life that way, you'll never get what you want. Sometimes you gotta make moves, Reagan._

 **Jamie:** _Hmm…_

 **Eddie:** _I'm sure she will always think of you fondly._

 **Eddie:** _Don't miss me too much tomorrow._

 **Jamie:** _I'm sure with all the stimulating conversation you'll be having out there, you won't miss me one bit._

 **Eddie:** _When the NYPD holds a stimulating conversation fundraiser, I'll be sure to put your name on the volunteer list._

 **Jamie:** _There'd be a line around the block._

 **Eddie:** _I'm going to bed now, smartass._

He merely leaves me with the eye-rolling emoji, a frequent favorite of ours, and I set my phone aside to settle into bed.

I have no idea whether he really is jealous. As well as I know him, he still masks his true feelings better than anyone. A part of me kind of hoped that Jamie would find out. That it would reinforce the reality he chose for us that we're partners and nothing more. I tried to convince myself it was a mutual decision. But if that night, when I told him that I had feelings for him and that he's so much more to me than a partner, had he echoed the sentiment, I'd transfer in a heartbeat. Instead, he insisted he valued our working partnership more and exploring those feelings he had was a bad idea.

The bigger question was… am I going to this fire department fundraiser to make him jealous? Or do I genuinely want to see some shirtless firefighters wash cars?

I mean, there are worse ways to spend a day.

* * *

 _ **A/N:**_ _Thanks for reading! More to come. :)_


	2. Chapter 2

This is so weird.

Once you've moved away from home, coming back never quite feels the same. I've lived in the city for almost ten years now and my life's been turned upside-down. A father in prison, a career in uniform that's anything but glamorous, and a small apartment in the East Village. But it's my life. If anything, coming back to Westchester makes me appreciate it even more.

I went to high school with a lot of the people here. Half the cheerleading squad I recognize in the crowd, baby strollers in tow, here to drop off their BMW SUVs, mix and mingle, and playfully hoot over the smiling men dutifully soaping them up.

It's a warm, late-spring day that slips into evening and a new rush of people make their way over after the work day. The whole thing is quite innocent. It's funny to me that Hailey thought this would be a downright scandal when really, these firefighters were just sweet, older men - who did indeed keep their shirts on, along with some guys I knew from high school who were all married with kids now, and one or two who seemed barely of legal drinking age. It was sort of endearing to see them having a good time, blushing now and then at the attention, hard at work scrubbing tires and hosing down expensive cars.

I park myself at the folding table outside the station with the Chief's teenage daughter, collecting and counting money. It keeps me busy and helps me not to dwell on how many of the people here still hate my family. There are some judgmental gazes and faces when old neighbors question me about what I'm up to now and I tell them I'm a cop. As if my dad's choices somehow make me unfit to wear the badge. But for the most part, people have moved on.

* * *

Later that night, I watch the bubbles slowly disappear from around my knees as I ease back into the oversized bathtub. This is heavenly compared to my cramped, sad little shower in Manhattan, so I intend to spend the rest of my night right here.

Grasping my beer bottle that I set on the rim of the tub, I peer at my phone and decide to give Jamie a call. I meant what I told him when I said that he's my best friend, so it felt strange to go all day without talking to him.

At this time of night, I knew his tour would be over and unless he was at the bar, or on a date, my bet was that he was home watching baseball. And probably eating a salad.

My thumb finds his contact and I arch my head back while I wait for him to pick up.

"Janko."

"Um, yes. Is this Jamie Reagan?" I tease. "I found your police courtesy card and word on the street is you let cute girls from the parking garage stay in your bed, and I was wondering-"

"You-" He laughs, "will never let me live that down, will you?"

"I'm still salty about it."

"She never stayed in my bed, by the way."

"Mm," I hum. "Such a nice boy."

"For the most part. So are you all done for the day?"

"I am."

"And the fireman parade… thing," he manages, and I have to roll my eyes, amused. "How was it?"

"Oh, it was just downright outrageous. All of my wildest fantasies come to life."

A rumble of laughter sounds through the phone. "I bet."

"No, it was fun, though," I tell him. "But tame. Hence how I'm calling you at nine o'clock at night from my parents' house."

"Come on. No phone numbers, no dates, nothing?" He presses.

"It was a shallow pool, Reagan," I chuckle. "Including my date to tenth grade Homecoming who ditched me that same night, Russell Wyatt, now of ladder 19. He tried to get my number today."

"Ditched you?"

"Oh yeah. Homecoming 1998. Midway through the dance, he was nowhere to be found. Turns out he had left with some other girl who I guess promised him a way better time. I had to walk to a payphone and call my mom to come pick me up. Kids today with their cell phones will never know the struggle."

He laughs again and the sound of it makes me smile, despite the sore memory. "What a dick. No doubt he saw you today and hates himself."

"I hope so. I hope he shamefully jerks off to memories of me and regrets all of his life choices."

I hear him crack up even harder and it's like I can picture it. It's one of my favorite reactions I get from him. "Oh god," he groans. "Too bad for him. Did he wind up washing your car?"

"I actually didn't bring the Porsche." It's weird, even though I don't really care one way or another about whether it gets washed at some fundraiser, Jamie's faux jealousy over someone else getting their hands on it was somewhat endearing and I decided to leave it at the house for the day. "I was just a volunteer for Hailey more than anything."

"Ah." He pauses and I hear the soft exhale on his end, like he's taking a swig from his own beer. "Where are you? What is that?" He asks.

"What?" I bring one knee up and realize he must hear the water when I shift in the tub. "Oh, I'm taking a bubble bath."

It's quiet for a moment and then he eventually clears his throat. "Oh."

I can't help the slight smirk that surfaces on my lips and I trail my fingertips along the bubbles at my thighs. "So how was your day? Another reminder that you have the smartest, most beautiful partner on the force?"

"Yeah, yeah. She's not bad." He muses. "I gotta get in line, though. Bridges spent half the day asking about you and whether you're single. Same crap I get asked all the time. We gotta get you an agent."

"Oh please," I groan. "Says the NYPD golden boy. If I had a dollar every time some girl we pass on patrol makes a crack about how you could handcuff her anyday."

"Eh, the handcuffs are overrated. People don't realize."

"Right?" I laugh softly into the phone.

"Other than having to shut that down, it was a pretty quiet day."

"Well good."

"So when are you due back tomorrow?" He asks. "We should hang out before work."

I sigh. "I don't know, no rush, really. You want to come out here? Spend the day with me in the suburbs?"

There's a brief pause on the line while he takes another sip of his beer. "Yeah let's do that. I'll take the Chevelle, I can bring you back so you don't have to ride the train."

I smile. "I like that."

"Alright. Well I'll head up there around lunch time." There's a soft lull on the phone before he tells me, "Enjoy your… bubble bath."

The quiet shift of his voice unsuspectingly sends a swell of heat from my chest that stretches lower. I touch the cool glass of my beer bottle to my lips and I feel the corners there flick upward. "I will."

The words we don't say buzz beneath my skin, flicker with possibility in my brain. I picture him there on the other end, relaxed in his apartment, and savor the almost-sleepy rasp of his voice as I sink down lower in the bubbles.

I really should have clothes on when I talk to him.

"Goodnight Jamie."


	3. Chapter 3

_**A/N:** Thank you all for the sweet reviews! They make my day. I'm such a sucker for these two, I hope you're enjoying it!_

* * *

I try to force my body to stay asleep as long as possible, knowing I'll be up all night on the late shift. But it's hard in a different place and my schedule's all out of whack and I wind up making my way out of bed by nine a.m.

I kill time around the house, blow off some of that lingering heat I wasn't expecting from merely talking to Jamie on the phone with a run in the neighborhood. Then once I'm showered and dressed, I make a grocery trip for my mom while she's at work.

I'm mid-pour on a glass of lemonade at the kitchen counter when the doorbell rings. Knowing that Jamie's here, at the house where I grew up, both amuses and excites me. I can feel the smile on my cheeks and I have to shake my head at how silly it feels considering I see the man everyday.

With my glass in hand, I make my way to the front door and pull it open. And it almost hurts, the feeling in my chest when I see him there on the doorstep. The glow of the afternoon sun good to him, he wears a pair of gym shorts and his navy blue NYPD t-shirt as he props one hand against the frame of the door.

I have to arch an eyebrow as I glance down to see him holding a bucket containing a collection of bottles along with a small white towel thrown over his shoulder.

"Can I interest you in a car wash today, ma'am?"

Playing along, my eyes light up and I gasp with a hand to my chest. "From a real police officer? Oh my!"

He tilts his head, gazing down at me with a squint of his eyes. "New York's finest."

"You got that right."

He lifts up the bucket. "I'm serious."

"You're seriously here to wash my car?"

"I won't be shown up by a bunch of firefighters."

"I told you they didn't wash my car. I just watched."

"Exactly. Plus I figure it's only fair," he reasons. "You did let me drive it last week."

I nod, impressed, then close the door behind me and lead him out to the driveway. "Well hey, I'm not going to turn down your good deed for the day. As long as I get to watch."

"So this is the palace, huh?" He wonders, following behind me.

I point out the garden hose, then bring myself a camping chair out of the garage and set it off the the side on the driveway to secure a good view. "If you want to call it that."

"I'd say so."

"It's a wonder we were able to keep the house after everything with my dad. He screwed over all of New York, but he managed to take care of us, I guess."

Jamie busies himself unwinding the hose and gets his bucket of soapy water ready. "It probably helps your mom feel like, you know, she has some sort of normalcy. Maybe just a little."

I nod and drape one leg over the other, my bare foot swinging over the concrete. "I'm glad she's here and not in some random apartment she's never known. And I like coming back to visit her. It feels..." I pause for a cleansing inhale and sweep my hair off my face. "Like there aren't so many missing pieces, you know?"

One corner of his mouth perks up in a slight smile and he nods as he plunges a sponge into the water. Glancing down at my lap, I swallow down a pang of regret for even saying that. Jamie's lost more people dear to him than anyone ever should. What right do I have to gripe about this huge empty house while my dad's locked away for just a couple more years?

"Sorry," I say softly. "There are worse problems in the world."

Jamie shrugs and slaps the sponge on the side of my car, reaching over to make wet, circular strokes. "You're allowed to be sad about it, Eddie. Your dad. I mean, it had to be pretty blindsiding when all of that went down. And you had to deal with the fallout."

"That's why it's always weird to come back here. This town." I pause to sip from my glass. "I've dealt with it. But to a lot of these people, their memory of that is all I'll ever be, you know?"

"They don't think that," he assures me, then heads back to his bucket . "And if they do, screw 'em."

I laugh softly and prop my elbow on the armrest while I watch him. "Poor me, right? The girl sitting out in the sun in the middle of the day while a hot cop washes her Porsche."

"Hot cop?" Jamie fakes confusion and glances back over his shoulder. "Oh hey, that's me."

"Regular looking cop, I mean."

"No, I heard you the first time." He smiles. "Can't take it back."

I giggle and bring my glass to my lips admiring the view of him bent over to scrub the bottom of the door.

"I mean, I know I'm no firefighter, but I think I'm doing alright."

"You know," I start and my gaze lowers, following him as he wrings out his sponge once more and rounds the car to work on the back. "The firefighters had their shirts off, but otherwise, it's not a bad job."

Jamie tips his head back to roll his eyes and I have to bite into my lower lip to keep from giggling at my shameless bait. He tosses the sponge into the bucket and quickly grasps the back of his t-shirt before tugging it off of himself.

"Ha!" I clap my hands and my feet smack the ground, elated. I can't help but crack up and I'm met with the soft cotton of his t-shirt when he tosses it at my face.

"How's that?"

An exaggerated groan rolls out of me. " _Ayeyeye_ , Officer!"

He glances down to scoop up the sponge once more, then arches a mischievous brow to steal a quick look at me before he returns to the bumper. "Nothing you haven't seen before."

"Oh, you mean in the locker room where you purposefully take an eternity to put your shirt on? Like it isn't until you hear my footsteps in the hallway that you're all, ' _Oh right, let me just casually remember I'm missing my shirt_ ' while you're otherwise fully dressed."

Laughing, he shakes his head. "Is that what I do?"

"Seems that way."

He rounds the car to work on the other side and I catch myself staring at the muscles in his upper back, the way they flex and contract when he works the sponge in long strokes. Before I know it, my damn lemonade is gone. Between the heat and his firm, sunkissed chest and his sudsy, dripping wet forearms, and the beads of sweat along his neck, this is getting downright pornographic.

I clear my throat and set my glass on the ground, adjusting in my seat. "You'd better be glad my mom's not here," I announce. "This would get her too hot and bothered, young man."

He shoots me an interested look as he makes his way back to the bucket, dunks his sponge in and wrings it out. "Your mom's not home, huh?"

"I know. And I have a boy over," I tease. A wry smile coasts across my lips and I bring my feet up into my chair while I watch him approach the hood of the car.

He props one hand on the hood and thoroughly circles the sponge there and either I'm really sad and hard-up, or this is truly one of the hottest things I've witnessed in a long time because it's got me pretty mesmerized.

"After this, you wanna go up to your room and study?" He propositions, flashing me one of his boyish grins.

I have to laugh as I gather my hair off my neck and nervously twist it around my fingers before letting it fall back down on my shoulders. "You're such the Boy Scout, Reagan, you'd probably _actually_ study."

"I don't know," he starts. "You in those shorts is pretty tempting."

I gasp dramatically. " _Me?_ Tempting _you_? An impossible feat," I tell him. "You're un-temptable."

"I'd hope you know from experience that's incorrect."

It isn't until I shift again, setting my feet down, that I realize how quickly my heart rate has picked up. Not to mention, the heated arousal that pulses between my thighs. "Your honor, I'm innocent," I manage.

"Hardly," he mutters with a scoff, then drops his sponge and reaches down to pick up the hose.

Inhaling a deep, sobering breath, I push myself up out of my chair. I watch him pull the trigger on the hose, spraying the suds and they glide away, dripping onto the concrete. I look over at him and he twists his wrist a few times, spraying the length of the car before he playfully jerks the hose in my direction threatening to soak me. But I quickly dodge it. "Oh, no, I don't think so."

He smirks. "Sorry, it slipped."

"Mm," I hum doubtfully and make my way a few steps closer. "So I have a confession, Reagan."

He lets go of the trigger and lowers it at his side as he turns to face me. Resting one hand low on his hip, he gazes down at me. "I thought you said you were innocent."

My teeth scrape my bottom lip. I can feel my pulse there. I can feel it everywhere, shooting through the length of my body and throbbing in my core when I stand this close to him. My head could construct a perfectly logical reason for why I shouldn't want him the way that I do, but my body aches for him and overrides all of that. I can fight it when we're in uniform, but it's not so easy at the moment.

"The firefighters yesterday…" I begin.

"Yeah?"

With a slight shake of my head, I tell him, "They never had their shirts off."

He glances down at himself, then looks at me, blinking a few times.

My eyes light up and I offer him a perfectly blameless grin.

With a thoughtful nod, he narrows his gaze, glances off to the side. It's as if he's pondering whether he enjoys my harassment.

And before I can tease him again, I'm suddenly pelted by the spray from the hose when his hand squeezes the trigger right at my side.

"Oh, my god!" I scream, flinching away and I dart over to the other side of the car, but not before he sprays me once again in the back. "Reagan, no!"

He's merciless when he raises his arm and continues to spray over the top of the Porsche, and even though I duck down, there's no escaping the downpour.

"You jackass!" I shriek, much to his delight, then dash away, averting him, but he's quick to meet me wherever I attempt to hide. I rush for the bucket of soapy water, snatch it up, but he's too fast, scampering away, shooting me in his wake when I try to splash him with it.

I drop the empty bucket and race to the other side of the car with breathless giggles. Now I'm completely soaked, my v-neck sky blue t-shirt clinging to my skin which I'm sure he has no remorse about. Then he stops short, turning the other way and meets me head-on with another spray, this time on my legs, and I jump up and run the other way while he chuckles in amusement at my dead end.

"Drop your weapon!" I shout between my high pitched giggles, the kind that only come out when I'm truly in hysterics.

He finally stops and holds up his hands, still grasping that hose trigger, though.

I point a warning at him, arching one eyebrow as my chest heaves with deep breaths. "Drop it."

He cocks his head, simply offering me a look.

"Don't make me do this the hard way," I tell him.

He smiles. "What's the hard way?"

I push off my feet and race toward him across wet pavement and he lifts his arm away from my reach. I attempt to leap up and grab the hose out of his hand, but I'm too damn short and he seems to enjoy this easy game of keep away.

His cockiness gives way long enough for me to successfully jump up once more and forcefully grasp his wrist. I'm able to tug his arm down and I leverage myself against him so I can twist it behind his back.

When I do, he lets out this unsuspecting little gravelly moan as I pin him between my body and the car and don't let up on his wrist.

He could easily get out of the hold I have on him, but he doesn't. His back gives a slight arch off the car as he looks down at me with that smirk and that glow in his eyes that I've seen before.

"You'll pay for that," I assure him with a threatening glare. "Drop it."

He lets go and the hose falls to the driveway at our feet. When he does, I loosen my grip on his wrist. He quickly moves his arm and tugs me around the waist, and before I know it, lands his mouth on mine. He urges me even closer and it steals my breath for a moment. It takes a few seconds before I give into him because his kiss takes me by surprise. But when I do, it's like I melt into the tease of his tongue.

Without meaning to, I softly moan my appreciation, my hips tilt against him and I rise up on my toes, my hands landing on the back of his neck. I drag needy fingertips there, into his wet hair as the heat of his mouth lights up everything inside of me.

This isn't like either of the other two kisses we've shared, the first one timid, testing the waters while the next was soft, almost sad because at the time, I worried it was the last chance I'd get to be that close to him.

This is completely new, as if some sort of complex, tightly wound knot has been snipped and is eagerly unraveling, leaving us in free-fall.

I'm hyper-aware of the feeling of my wet skin beneath wet clothes, the slickness of him. The combination of it along with the barely there hungry rumble in his throat, his hot breath on mine is hypnotic.

His momentum slows and I feel him take a moment to draw a long inhale through his nose before he leaves me with a devastating drag of his teeth over my bottom lip, then releases it. The sensation prompts an unguarded whimper from me before he eases back and my legs nearly give out from underneath me.

All I can do is drop my chin, then I sort of head butt him in the chest and let out a woeful groan. "Why?"

I feel him laugh softly, his chest twitching beneath my forehead. "It's a problem, huh?" He mutters.

"Can you spray me in the face with the hose again? Because I just-" I sigh against him, my best attempt at a head-clearing breath because it seriously might kill me how much I'm turned on by him. "You're killing me, Reagan."

"You think it's just you?"

I cough a surprised laugh and manage to push myself away. Sliding hands up my wet face, I rake fingers through my hair that I can feel is starting to dry in messy waves. "Hey, it was you who said-" and then my voice downshifts into an impression of him, " _it's a bad idea, for a lot of reasons._ "

He exhales heavily and pushes himself off the car, swinging his arms in front of himself like he's stretching. "It's a bad idea for a lot of reasons," he echoes like a mantra.

My hands drop to my hips and I peer up at him, arching an eyebrow to gauge what the hell we're supposed to do now.

His gaze meets mine and we share a wordless moment in thought before he tilts his head and tells me, "Sorry I got you all wet."

The smack of my palm against his shoulder is exaggerated by wet, bare skin and he can't help but laugh at himself.

With a huff, I turn on my heel, snatching his t-shirt off the chair and then the towel he had brought that was laying off to the side. I make my way back over to him and push the towel against his chest. "Go dry off your girl."

Then I point past his shoulder to the still dripping Porsche before I head back toward the house. "Then you can come in for lunch!" I call out, and offer one more innocent, eye-fluttering smile over my shoulder before I let myself inside.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:** _So excited for a new Blue Bloods tonight, finally! Here's a new chapter. These two alone in a house together is way too tempting. ;)_

* * *

"Alright, so that was my bad," Jamie admits, as he sits himself down at one of the barstools at the kitchen counter. After he came in, I let him take a shower in the guest room, which I didn't need to dwell on too long, before he put his gym shorts back on along with his t-shirt from earlier.

Meanwhile, I had changed into dry clothes of my own and started making lunch in the kitchen when he made his way back.

"You think?" I quip, putting the finishing touches on his turkey sandwich - tomatoes on his, not on mine, mustard, salt and pepper, a pickle for him.

"I know we agreed all that stuff's off the table." He watches me and turns the glass of water I had set out for him on the countertop.

I nod, as if to reiterate it to myself. "We did."

"So I'm sorry. I got caught up in the moment."

I look up at him and there's sort of a hazy sadness there in his eyes that he tries to mask as earnest concern.

"When we're on the job," he continues, "it's… easier. We're in work mode, you know?"

I nod again, and set his plate in front of him, then round the counter to take a seat beside him.

"Thank you. When we're just hanging out…" He spreads his open hands like he needs a moment to figure out how to finish. "It's almost like I forget."

"Maybe we hang out too much."

He glances over at me, silence lingering between us while we chew our food.

I go on. "I mean, think about it. We're going to spend all night together on duty. And here we are, technically our down time, and we're together. Maybe that's a problem."

Slowly, he nods, then shrugs, bringing his glass to his lips.

"Think about the times we've madeout," I tell him and he cuts me a look with a raised eyebrow. "Were we on duty? No. We were hanging out just like this."

"So eliminate hanging out, eliminate the problem?" He suggests.

I swallow, pressing my lips together for a time-killing pause. "In theory."

He looks at me, pensive over a bite of his turkey sandwich, then eventually swallows, drawing his brows together. "Well that's stupid."

I laugh softly, relieved that he didn't agree to that. "I know. I like hanging out with you."

"This is a good sandwich." He says it like he's surprised.

"Of course it is, Reagan."

"You've never made me food before," he muses.

"I don't only eat at restaurants, you know," I tell him. "I'd be broke as hell and have to move to Brooklyn, god forbid."

His elbow jabs my arm as he continues to finish off his lunch. "I like hanging out with you too."

"So how do we solve our problem?"

He gulps down some more water and sets it down, letting out a deep exhale. "Look. We like spending time together. We work well together."

"For the most part," I correct him.

"True. You're stubborn and sometimes you shoot your mouth off-"

"Hey." I ease my head back and give him a wounded look. "Is this what we're doing? Okay, well you're stubborn and you think you know everything."

Our insults, which are really just plain honesty, no longer faze each other and he shrugs in acceptance. "And… you've also grown a lot as a cop," he tells me. "You make a great partner, we've got a good thing going-"

"Mm-hm." I narrow my gaze at him. "It's just that damn mouth of mine, huh? You didn't seem to have a problem with it outside."

He glances down with a soft laugh, then clears his throat. "Your mouth is a blessing and a curse."

I smile and with a slow shake of my head, return to my food. "Thank you for saying I'm a great cop."

"You know it."

"Coming from you, it means a lot."

He downs some more water and lets out an exaggerated exhale. "You had an excellent T.O."

Even though it's my instinct to scoff at him congratulating himself, he's right and I can't help the warmth that grows in my chest when I acknowledge that. Sometimes I wonder if I would have made it through my first year as a police officer without him.

"Yeah, he's alright."

He looks at me like he's pondering his next move, chewing thoughtfully, then wipes a napkin across his mouth. "There's something I've never told you."

I eye him suspiciously over my glass. "Uh-oh."

"A couple years ago, Renzulli called me into his office and questioned whether…" He pauses to clear his throat, gesturing between himself and me. "Anything was going on between us."

My eyes go wide and the confession sort of seizes my heart for a moment. "Are you serious? You never told me!"

"I know. I shut it down."

"What made him ask you that?"

He shrugs. "Some call we got. He said I acted like a jealous boyfriend. I don't even-"

"Oh, the domestic, where that guy shoved me down and you beat the crap out of him? I _knew_ Renzulli would have something to say about that."

"At the time, I maintained that I acted with appropriate force. But, in hindsight…" He stops to run his hand along his jaw in thought. "I could have gotten him in handcuffs sooner. If I witnessed an officer going that hard on a perp who was already down, I'd reprimand him too."

"What did Sarge say? I can't believe you didn't tell me this."

"He told me that if you and I appeared to have-" And then he wiggles his fingers to signal quotation marks- " _romantic feelings_ for one another, then we would find ourselves reassigned to different precincts."

I study him for a moment while I process this revelation. Knowing this conversation took place makes certain things a little clearer. "So what'd you say?"

"I told him it was just sex, nothing serious."

I nearly choke on a sip of water and quickly reach out to smack his arm. He leans away, chuckling in amusement and I have to give him one more shove.

"I would kill you, Reagan."

With that grin on his face, he shakes his head. "No, I told him we were partners and had no romantic intentions with each other."

I huff a deep breath. " _Romantic intentions_ ," I mock the term, then shoot him a playful smirk.

He holds his hands out. "What else was I supposed to say, you know?"

"I would have said the same thing."

"So that's where I left it."

A quiet moment passes as we both finish our lunch and I ease off the stool to take the plates away. "So where are _we_ leaving it, hm?"

He stands up and there's a pause while he thinks about it. After setting the plates in the sink, I turn to look at him and he eventually answers, "It's complicated."

"Yeah."

"I think we can tell ourselves we should keep it strictly professional all day long," he reasons. "But feelings are feelings, you know?"

I have to arch one brow at Jamie ever mentioning his feelings. " _Romantic_ feelings?"

He tilts his head as his eyes roll to the side. "Please."

"Feelings in your pants?"

"How 'bout feeling worn the hell out by you and our day hasn't even started yet?"

With a giggle, I turn to take the bottle of mustard from the countertop and stick it back in the refrigerator. "Oh, Reagan. The many ways I could wear you out," I tease. "You couldn't handle it."

He keeps his mouth shut and just smiles instead as he rinses his glass at the sink. "Thank you for lunch."

"You're welcome. It's the least I could do."

He looks up and around the kitchen. "So show me the rest of the palace."

"You want a tour?"

His gaze meets mine, a split second too long, long enough for that flame that had cooled off to flicker back to life. "Yeah."

Softly, I clear my throat and start off toward the staircase. But I'm quick to turn back to him and I grasp the front of his t-shirt in my fist. "Just…" I look up at him, and press my lips together in determination. "No more kissing, mmkay?"

His smile grows until he exhales a quiet laugh. "No more. Line in the sand."

I nod, as if to finalize it, and gently shove my palm against his chest. Then my hand slips down into his and I tug him with me out of the kitchen, on our way to my old bedroom.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N:** _This chapter's a bit longer, but it's the final one in this little installment. :) I actually wish this one was in Jamie's POV, but it's good to get Eddie's too. I'm itching to write in Jamie's again, so count on something else from me in the near future. Thank you for your thoughtful reviews! They're the best motivation. Enjoy!_

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"Your mom has a room just for wrapping presents." Jamie says it matter-of-factly as he trails me back out into the hallway.

"Well it's a craft room," I explain. "Craft room-slash-gift wrapping room."

He laughs. "Interesting."

"Are you mocking her crafts?"

"Never."

I sigh and lead him to the door at the top of the stairs. "You get lonely when your husband's in prison."

He stays quiet and I glance back at him. "Now for the last stop on our tour," I announce. "Follow me." When I pass through the doorway to my old bedroom, I present it unceremoniously. "Very exciting."

I watch Jamie as he steps into the room and lifts his gaze to assess his surroundings: the coastal teal walls decorated with a collection of frames, from old pictures of friends, to certificates and awards from high school. He steps closer to them and I take a seat on my plush white comforter, letting the quiet linger over us.

He peers up and moves further along the wall. "You have quite the collection here." Then he stops and points at the red and blue UPenn pennant pinned to the wall. "You and your Philly roots. That explains so much."

"It explains why I'm so refined and brilliant."

He groans softly with a shake of his head. "Give me a break."

I feel the curve of a smile gradually lift my cheek as I lean back and watch him. "This room is like, frozen in time. It's crazy."

"Wait a minute here." As he approaches a bookcase, he leans closer. "Who… is that?"

I squint across the room and see him studying another framed picture on the shelf. I push myself up and make my way to peer over his shoulder. "Oh jeez."

"Is that you?"

"I was a lifeguard."

He picks up the frame and examines it closer. "You definitely were."

"Don't be gross, Reagan."

"Can I keep this?"

A laugh bursts out of me and I attempt to snatch the frame from him, but he twists away.

"How old were you in this picture?"

I shake my head. "Probably 18."

Jamie lets out a playful low whistle, then glances at it once more before he raises his arm out of my reach. "It's like all my teenage Baywatch fantasies are coming to the surface." He laughs and finally hands over the picture frame.

Giving him a shove on the arm, I have to bite my lip as I look down to remember the photo. "You're a punk."

"I didn't know you were a lifeguard."

"Every summer since I was 16 'til I graduated college."

He eases his head back and blinks in surprise. "Damn."

"Camp Cayuga in the Poconos."

He cuts me a look and a cute little smirk curves on his lips. "I definitely would have done some fake drowning."

With a bump of my hip, I knock him off his balance a step as I look once more at the picture: me leaning up against a lifeguard stand in my red one-piece swimsuit, whistle around my neck and aviator sunglasses, posing next to two guys I worked with, their rescue tubes at their sides.

I reach over to replace the frame on the shelf, then turn toward my bed.

He takes a thoughtful moment as if to ponder it. "So… grew up a lifeguard, business major at UPenn. When was the decision to become a cop?"

Pulling my feet up, I sit cross-legged on the bed and inhale a deep breath. "I was supposed to go into finance. Like my father," I start. "I never felt a calling for it. You know? It just felt… like this all-consuming disregard for people. For humanity." I let out this sad little laugh. "And that's great if that's your thing. It was a very driven, ambitious world."

Jamie exhales softly in amusement and approaches the bed. "Sounds like Harvard."

I offer him a smile and scoot over, making room for him and pat the comforter beside me. "That's not to say I'm not ambitious. But… I knew I was meant to do something more."

He nods as he slides onto the bed beside me, propping himself against the headboard.

"Did you feel that way?" I wonder.

"Yeah."

"I realized there's bad guys and good guys, but sometimes the bad guys don't have to turn out that way," I explain. "It doesn't _have_ to be their destiny. I guess… I wanted a stake in society that would let me intercept them." I pause and, pressing my lips together, glance over at him to see him just watching me talk so I continue. "And I know that sounds like rookie idealism. I know some bad guys, _most_ bad guys, are just bad guys. And I can't put the blame for them on my shoulders or I'll go crazy. You taught me that."

The gradual smile on his face makes his eyes glow in that warm way that I love. "Your idealism is one of my favorite things about riding with you. Don't ever lose it."

I can't resist the tilt of my head as I groan, "Aww, sport."

"Shut up," he mutters.

Laughing softly, I adjust down onto the pillows, propping up on one elbow to face him. "So anyway. I decided to take out my ruthless ambition on the bad guys instead of Wall Street. And look at me now," I tease wistfully.

Resting his head back on the headboard, he turns to glance down at me and we let a quiet moment hang there. "I'm glad you did."

"I'm glad you ditched fancy lawyer life," I tell him. "Did you ever practice?"

He nods. "For about a year."

"I always thought the cool thing about being a lawyer would be eating Chinese food straight from the takeout box with chopsticks while wearing a disheveled suit, late at the office," I muse. "I always thought that was sexy."

He sputters a laugh and tilts his head against the headboard shaking it slowly in amusement. "What?"

"I feel like they were always doing that on Ally McBeal."

He laughs harder, one of his quiet laughs that just shakes his shoulders the more he thinks about it and eventually slides down beside me. "Oh my god," he groans. "You _would_ think that. That makes perfect sense."

I flick his arm. "But you know what I'm talking about."

"Nothing about being an attorney is sexy, I'm here to tell you."

"Yeah, yeah."

"Not like your days at Camp Cayuga."

My palm flattens on his chest and I playfully shove him back. "I should have known you were still thinking about that."

"I'm just saying," he shrugs.

"If you want to take that picture home so that you can have some alone time with it, I understand."

He laughs and then cocks one eyebrow as if he's considering it. "I might just do that."

A tease of a smile threatens my lips and I narrow my eyes at him. "I know your weakness. Now I know how I'm going to surprise you next Halloween. Show up at your apartment in that red bathing suit, carrying a life preserver."

"Oh hell yeah." Furrowing his brow, he nods in appreciation.

Amused, I affect this faux flirtatious voice and lean closer to him. "Twirl my whistle around my fingers…"

"This is having an effect on me I wasn't expecting."

I crack up and fall against him, my forehead on his shoulder. "Alright, I'm stopping."

"Yes," he laughs. "You need to stop. Although…" And with a climactic pause, one eyebrow jumps. "Maybe I'll show up in a disheveled suit with some Chinese food, if we're talking sexy weaknesses."

"Ugh!" I let out a loud moan and fall onto my back. "That's rude. I'd be so into that."

He shakes his head and we let our collective amusement taper off in the otherwise quiet room until he speaks up again. "I can't decide if I know way too much about you. Or if I need to know more."

With a soft giggle, I turn my head to glance up at him. "I have plenty of secrets you haven't discovered yet."

"Yeah? Like your rap sheet?"

"No comment."

"What'd you do?"

"I'm an upstanding citizen," I insist. "You can look me up in the database."

He just blinks, and waits patiently for a confession, his face all enticing planes and angles. If I look at him for too long, my chest gets hot and I have to find a deep breath.

"I stole a golf cart when I was 15," I admit.

A grin breaks out on his face and he shifts onto his back with a hearty chuckle. "What the hell, Janko?"

"I didn't think it was like, actual theft!"

He just laughs harder and gives me that judgmental shake of his head.

"But apparently it's like stealing a car." I shrug. "Those things are actually licensed to people. Whatever, I was just trying to be cool and the boy I had a crush on was a caddy at the country club." My explanation just sort of morphs into amusement beside him.

"Of course he was." Jamie rests his arms back behind his head. "Was he impressed?"

"No," I laugh. "But I learned my lesson and the cop gave me a break."

"Ah ha."

"See? A positive run-in with the police can change a kid's whole perception of them."

"Or that cop just didn't want to deal with you."

Quickly, I jab my elbow into his side. "You hush."

"Well... I'm happy you straightened out your life."

"What about you, huh?" I wonder, narrowing my gaze at him in suspicion. "There's no way you're one hundred percent Boy Scout."

"Do you know my family?" He argues. "I couldn't get away with shit."

I simply look at him, arching an eyebrow while I wait, the same way he does to me until finally his head turns my way.

"I used to smoke in law school."

With a dramatic gasp and I feel my eyes light up as I swiftly turn onto my side. "Reagan!"

Pressing his lips together, he shoots me this look like he's a kid who's just been caught. Then he laughs at himself. "It wasn't that bad."

I turn my head, cutting him a glare in disbelief. "Just when you think you know a guy."

"Hey, I quit when I was a 3L," he explains. "I didn't even like it, I just…" And then he shrugs. "That place sort of brought out the worst in me sometimes."

I have to smile at that being Jamie's most offensive scandal. "Well. If smoking was the worst in you, I think you're gonna be okay. We won't tell the Boy Scouts, I doubt they'll revoke your membership."

With a swift jerk, he nudges me in the leg with his knee. "You criminal," he mutters.

The bass of his voice seems to vibrate inside of me when he's laying this close. I catch myself holding my breath. When I realize it, it throbs inside of me for a moment before I manage a heavy exhale.

"Would it be stupid to take a nap right now?" I wonder. The afternoon sun filtered through sheer white curtains gives the room this sleepy glow against the cool bedding.

Jamie adjusts onto his side once more to mirror my position, resting his head on the pillow. "No. That's probably smart."

"I'm just thinking about how long we have to work tonight."

He nods and I feel my gaze flit down to the curve of his lips. There's this gravity about him when we're this close, it's like I can't back out of it. "Let's try to get some sleep then," he murmurs.

In my head, I'm telling myself to turn over, to face away from him, but I just sort of nod instead and appreciate that even though he took a shower in my house and smells like my soap, his t-shirt still smells like him. And the familiar sensation only draws me in closer.

"Do you want me to go sleep in the gift wrapping room?" He asks.

With a soft laugh, I shake my head. "No, stay." And then I gather the determination to adjust, and flip over onto my other side. Before I do, I prop myself up, then point to the bed and with my index finger, draw an imaginary line down the length of his body, between his and mine. "Line in the sand, remember." I arch a meaningful brow, then quickly settle onto my side away from him.

I want so badly to fit myself against him, to feel him behind me. My entire body buzzes for it. I make myself close my eyes and manage a steady exhale, but my breath shakes.

My focus stills on the soft sounds of him adjusting on the bed, then my own, skin on cotton bedding. The only noise is the ceiling fan and Jamie's soft breathing. His chest expands behind me with each breath and he's so close, I sense it. Without touching, I still feel it.

I tell myself it's unintentional when my back arches slightly in a stretch, tilting my hips back in front of him. But when I do, I feel the curve there just barely graze him and he reacts with a sharp inhale that we both pretend we didn't notice.

There's no way I can sleep with my heart pounding this fast. I'm so aware of him and the heat in my chest and the ache that I have for him that won't let me unwind.

Then I feel his hand in my hair, he threads his fingers through it and flips it over my shoulder. In confusion, I shift up to look back at him.

With a sleepy voice, he explains, "Your hair's on my side of the line."

I tease him with an impatient huff, and grumbling to appease him, I sweep all of my hair over the shoulder I'm laying on and situate myself back on the pillow. "There. Can we sleep now?"

And as if he can sense this need I have for him, his hand goes to my hip and with a tug, he pulls me back against him and drapes his arm around my waist. "Yes. Goodnight," he murmurs.

It feels perfect and it's like all the nerves that were flitting through my body just melt at the contact. Under different circumstances, this might have made those nerves, that desire worse, winding me up tighter. But my body gives in to the need I have for rest in the stillness that surrounds us. And soon enough, the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest against my back eases me to sleep.

The End.

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Thanks again! I hope to write more in this little universe. Because, I mean... let's be real. There's something unresolved here. ;)

I appreciate the support!


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